by Ginny Dye
“What happened?” Carrie asked, flushing when she realized how her question must sound.
Biddy smiled. “It’s a fair question. I grew up on the farm while it was still considered an estate, but then my father lost all his money in a bad business deal.” She frowned briefly. “He would never tell me what happened. I just knew that one day we had a glorious life, and the next day he was selling our life out from under us. A little bit at a time, he sold off our land. I watched as the farm filled with buildings and houses. By the time he was so desperate he had to sell all the land right around the house, the only thing being built was tenement houses for the poor Irish population.” Biddy closed her eyes. “It broke my father’s heart, but he didn’t know what else to do. My mother wanted to go back to the city and build up her fashion business again, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He died when I was just twenty-four.”
“What did your mother do?” Carrie asked, fascinated by the story she was hearing.
“Her spirit was broken by then. There wasn’t enough left in her to build up her business again. We didn’t have much, but we had enough. She used what little money was left to make sure I continued my education.”
Carrie gazed at her. “I didn’t know women could go to college in 1800.”
“They couldn’t,” Biddy replied promptly. “The first women weren’t allowed into colleges until right after the war. You and your friends are helping pave the way. Not only by being in school, but especially by being in medical school. That’s something I could only dream about when I was your age.”
Carrie looked at her sharply. “You wanted to be a doctor?”
“More than anything,” Biddy answered, her voice tinged with regret. Then she waved her hand in the air. “It doesn’t do any good to moan about the past. My mama knew how badly I wanted to learn, so she did the only thing she could do—she brought in tutors of every kind to teach me. If any of the teachers—all of them men—treated me with any degree of condescension, they were gone the next day.” She smiled. “I lost a lot of teachers, but I also had some very wonderful ones who understood women could do anything men could. They treated me like that, and I thrived.”
Carrie thought about the stuffed bookshelves in the library above her head. “And your father? Did he support your desire to learn?”
Biddy smiled slightly. “I suspect Father thought it was a frivolous waste of time and money, but he adored my mother and would do anything for her. She wanted me to be educated, so he went along with it. He never discouraged me, but he certainly never encouraged me,” she mused. She looked at Carrie. “And you? Women medical students are very rare in the North. I suspect they are even rarer in the South. How did you attain your education?”
Carrie smiled. “My mother was convinced I only needed training to become a typical plantation mistress. My father understood the very idea made me ill, so he championed me. He made sure I had tutors, and he gave me free run of the plantation on my horse, Granite.”
Biddy pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. “He sounds like quite an extraordinary man.”
“He most certainly is,” Carrie said fervently. “It took him a little while to come around on the slavery issue, but he embraced women’s equality long before anyone else in the South did.”
“And your mother?” Faith asked.
Carrie met her eyes. “My mother died the year before the war started. I hated losing her, but I suspect our country at war would have been more than my mother could have handled.” She smiled fondly. “She was rather fragile.”
“The two of you made peace before she died,” Biddy observed.
Carrie met her eyes, not surprised she would know that. “Yes. She didn’t understand me any more than she had before, but she wanted me to be happy, and she encouraged my dreams of becoming a doctor. It was the last conversation we had,” she murmured.
“I’m sure she is so proud of you,” Faith responded quietly.
Carrie nodded. “I believe she is.”
“So your father is alone then?” Biddy asked.
Carrie smiled brightly. “No. He married a wonderful woman from right here in Philadelphia. I had met her before the war, and we became close friends. We corresponded until the war made it impossible, but we reconnected as soon as the war was over. I was thrilled when she and my father fell in love.”
“Your family is here in Philadelphia?” Faith asked, a look of surprise on her face.
“No,” Carrie answered. “My father and Abby live in Richmond now. They own a clothing factory that they started when the war ended.”
Biddy looked at her sharply. “Abby? A clothing factory? What was Abby’s last name before she married your father?”
Carrie felt a glimmer of anticipation as she answered. “Her name was Abigail Livingston.” She was somehow not surprised when a broad smile spread across Biddy’s face. “You know Abby?”
“That we do,” Faith answered. “We were all at the first Women’s Rights Convention in 1848.”
“At Seneca Falls, New York,” Carrie said with a laugh. “I should be shocked, but I’m not.”
Biddy grinned. “Powerful women tend to find each other, Carrie. You will understand that more and more as you get older. Abigail Livingston made life better for so many women in this city, and she was a leader in the abolition movement. Your stepmother is an extraordinary woman.”
“Now that I already know,” Carrie replied with a wide grin. “Abby was already one of my closest friends, and my mentor. To have her become my stepmother was simply icing on the cake.”
“Did she sell her factories here in the city?” Faith asked.
“No, she has managers to handle them. She comes up periodically to check on them.”
“And you and the rest are living in her house,” Faith guessed.
Carrie nodded, her heart full with the knowledge that her life had been entwined with these two wonderful women. She could hardly wait to tell Abby the news. “She will be so excited to visit when she is here again.”
“Will that be soon?” Faith asked.
Carrie frowned as she remembered the letter she had received two days earlier. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Life is very difficult in Richmond right now.” She’d had to read between the lines of Abby’s letter, but she was certain she hadn’t missed the unspoken message. “I believe Abby is rather afraid to leave my father right now.”
Biddy gazed at her for a long moment. “They are both in danger because of their stance for black people,” she said knowingly.
“Yes.” Carrie was happy to talk more at another time, but she still had questions of her own. “Why did you stay here, Biddy? Moyamensing has become such a dangerous place to live. Couldn’t you have left?”
Biddy smiled. “I suppose I could have,” she replied. “Especially once I was married. My husband tried to convince me many times, especially once it really started to grow as new immigrants poured in. Peter had a job in the city, and he hated the distance he had to drive to work, but he let me have my way.”
“Your husband was Irish?”
“Oh yes, but he was born here in America. He started as an indentured servant, but his master thought of Peter as a son. He made sure Peter received education when he was growing up, and when he died, it turns out he left Peter everything he had. It wasn’t a tremendous amount, but it allowed him to go to college. He was a businessman all during our marriage.” Her eyes softened as she remembered. “Peter and I had four fine sons.”
“Where are they now?” Carrie asked.
Biddy’s eyes glimmered with painful memory. “They all died in the cholera epidemic of 1842.”
Carrie gasped with horror. “All of them?”
Biddy nodded sadly. “It hit Moyamensing especially badly.”
“The reason the hospital was burned,” Carrie murmured. Understanding swept through her and wiped out the remnants of anger about the destruction of the hospital.
“They were afraid,” Faith sa
id simply.
“Of course they were,” Carrie replied sadly. She looked back at Biddy. “I’m so very sorry.” She was almost afraid to ask her next question. “What about your grandchildren? Does Ardan live nearby?”
Biddy smiled. “Ardan is my great-grandchild. He is nothing but a gift to me.” Her smile faded as she closed her eyes again. “I had seven grandchildren. All boys. God evidently didn’t think any more females were needed in my family. I didn’t care. I was happy with all my men around me.” She paused. “They were all killed in the war. Ardan is all I have left.” Her voice caught as she looked out the window.
Carrie was at a complete loss for words as she stared at Biddy. “I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was faint as her eyes filled with tears.
Biddy reached forward to take her hand. “Life is a series of loss and grief, but it is also a source of unbelievable joy, Carrie. I wish with all my heart that I still had my family with me, but I am grateful for the love we shared and all the memories I carry in my heart.”
Carrie still had no idea what to say. She simply couldn’t comprehend that amount of loss. She knew Sarah had suffered so terribly, but what Biddy had been through was more than she could wrap her mind around.
Biddy squeezed her hand. “I hope you never have reason to understand what I’ve experienced,” she said, “but I do hope you fill your life with as much love and laughter as you can, because you never know when it will be taken from you. I’ve learned to not take one single thing for granted.”
Carrie couldn’t control the tears that filled her eyes.
“I also choose to be happy every single day,” Biddy said. “Yes, I’ve suffered great losses, but I also have so many wonderful things in my life. I can focus on the losses, or I can focus on what is.”
Faith reached over and put a hand on Biddy’s shoulder. “I can assure you Biddy focuses on what is. She has also used her losses to make her more compassionate of all people.”
Carrie thought about the love the old lady had for her community. “You stayed in Moyamensing so you can make a difference,” she said.
Biddy nodded. “Yes. This country has taken so much from the Irish. It started out as an English wrongdoing, but it didn’t end when America became an independent nation. Forcing the Irish to become indentured servants eventually faded away because it became more financially profitable to enslave the blacks, but it didn’t change the attitudes toward the Irish. They have always been seen as inferior. That hasn’t changed.”
“How are you changing it?” Carrie asked eagerly.
Biddy waved her to the window. “Look outside,” she invited.
Carrie looked, seeing only what she always saw—wagons, carriages, and hordes of children. She turned back to Biddy with a question in her eyes.
“All those children you see start school next week,” she said proudly. “Every child in Moyamensing is in school…if we can get them to go, that is.
“How?” Carrie murmured. She knew Philadelphia’s City Council was certainly not funding education in this area. “Public education is available to only a very small percentage of youth. Who teaches them?”
“There are schools in each of the churches, and many of the businesses have back rooms where classes are held. We have hired teachers who understand these children have as much potential to learn as any other children.”
Carrie processed this information with astonishment. “Who pays for it?”
“Biddy does,” Faith said proudly.
Carrie stared at Biddy with her mouth open. Finally she found her voice. “You pay for all these children to go to school? All the children in Moyamensing?”
It was Faith who answered when Biddy shrugged her shoulders modestly. “Biddy’s husband became a very wealthy man,” she said. “When he died, Biddy used her mama’s business sense and invested most of that money.”
Carrie stared at Biddy. “You’re rich?”
Biddy chuckled. “I prefer to think I’m able to give away quite a bit to make things better for the people here.”
Carrie stared out at the street again. Biddy could live anywhere. She could be in a grand neighborhood… She could live in a peaceful place… Carrie’s thoughts were jumbled.
Biddy read her mind. “I’m where I want to be, Carrie. I could put all these children in school even if I wasn’t living here, but then I wouldn’t be with my people. A huge injustice has been done to the Irish for many centuries. I can turn my back on all that and live my life in comfort and solitude, or I can have the joy of being here with them.”
Joy. Carrie mulled over the word Biddy chose to use. “This gives you joy?”
Biddy’s smile was radiant. “More than you can imagine. I encourage the children every chance I get. I talk to them from the window, but they also come inside for Faith’s cookies.”
“I bake a lot of cookies,” Faith admitted happily. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my time because it ensures we always have young ones around.”
“I also have the opportunity to find employment for many of the men down here through my business connections,” Biddy added.
“She makes them believe things can be different,” Faith said proudly. “Burning the hospital wasn’t the right thing to do maybe, but it shows that the folks in this neighborhood are beginning to believe they’re better than the way others see them. They are beginning to understand that being Irish is something to be proud of.”
Suddenly it all clicked together in Carrie’s mind. “You’re fulfilling the destiny your heritage left for you.”
Biddy’s eyes met hers. “What makes you say that?” she asked keenly.
Carrie knew the old lady was inviting her to go deeper. “A part of every one of your ancestors lives in you,” she said slowly. “Everything that ever happened to them lives on in you,” she said more firmly as her understanding solidified.
“Is that your medical opinion?” Biddy probed.
“No.” Carrie’s mind was spinning, trying to fit the pieces together like she used to fit together wooden jigsaw puzzles when she was a child. “So many horrible things happened to your family, but they were survivors. Somehow they kept the lineage going, and they kept passing down the courage it took to make that happen.” She stared at Biddy. “It would have been so easy to live your life in luxury once the horrible things stopped happening.”
“Except that would have been the most horrible thing of all,” Biddy responded. “Up to that point, most of the horrible things had been done to my family. What a waste if I had simply turned my back on all of that so I could live a life of ease.”
“Yes,” Carrie murmured. She turned back around to look at all the children, seeing them completely differently now. Each child was an opportunity for Biddy to redeem the pain of her past.
Biddy was watching her closely. “You got what you came for,” she said quietly.
Carrie nodded. “Yes, I believe I did.” It stunned her to realize it was true. It had taken no more than Biddy telling her the rest of her story for understanding to bloom in her confused mind.
Faith smiled when she turned to her. “You need to take what you’ve learned today and live it for a while before you put anything more in. My story should wait. Stories aren’t meant to be told just for the telling.”
Carrie understood. “They’re meant to be told so the people hearing them can change the present and the future.”
Biddy held up her hand. “I know you’re thinking you need to explain what brought you here. You don’t. Oh, I would love to know what has happened in you when the time is right, but it’s all too new for you to try and express it. It needs to sit with you for a while. It needs to sink into your heart until it becomes part of you. Then you’ll be ready to talk about it.”
Carrie stared at her. Biddy was just like Old Sarah. Life could have destroyed her. Instead, she had chosen to let it refine her like a beautiful piece of glowing glass. The wisdom and love shining from her eyes was a testimony t
o her choice not to let life make her bitter. “Can I return soon?” she asked. Somehow she knew this house pressed into an impoverished neighborhood was a vital key to her life in Philadelphia.
“Any time you wish,” Biddy replied. “Consider this another home.”
It was late in the afternoon when Carrie finally left. The rest of her time there had been spent in easy conversation and laughter. There had been no more storytelling and no more questions. Carrie understood that deep transformation needed time to take root and grow. It couldn’t be hurried.
Faith had fixed a delicious lunch, and at least a dozen children had appeared at the back door eager for her oatmeal cookies. She listened quietly as Biddy and Faith talked to their children, sending each of them away with a confident shine in their eyes.
When Crandall pulled the carriage to a stop in front of the house, Carrie was reluctant to leave. For the first time ever, she felt uncomfortable about going home. The conversation with Janie had been playing in her mind all day. She was certain of what she needed to do, but she was dreading it.
Chapter Eight
Janie was waiting on the porch when Matthew’s carriage arrived. Her heart almost exploded with joy when a wide grin split his face as soon as he saw her. There had been times when she was sure she had merely imagined the tender moments they had on the plantation before she had been called away. Perhaps she had only dreamed the proposal. The look in his eyes when he leapt from the carriage said it was all real.
“Janie!” Matthew ran up the stairs and swept her into his arms.
Janie closed her eyes from sheer delight. She had never felt the joy of being treasured before, and had never expected to experience it during her lifetime. To find it after the traumatic marriage to Clifford made it even more precious to her. “You’re here,” she breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
